


Even If We Can't Find Heaven

by ellerkay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Having Faith, Loss of Faith, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerkay/pseuds/ellerkay
Summary: Sam finds his faith and loses it and finds it again, albeit in a very different form. A Sastiel love story and exploration of Sam’s faith and spirituality.





	Even If We Can't Find Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sam Winchester Big Bang; please show my artist love on [the art masterpost](https://leafzelindor.tumblr.com/post/182216059564/art-master-post-for-even-if-we-cant-find-heaven). A million thanks to Leaf for her stunning work, and for being an absolute joy to work with! I feel so lucky that you chose my story.

Sam was nine, and he was staying with Pastor Jim while Dean and Dad were on a hunt. He had only learned a couple months ago what they actually did. What was out there in the dark. He still cried about it most nights, after Dean was asleep. He was afraid for himself – how could he not be? – but it was far worse to think about what Dean and Dad were facing. Dad didn’t know yet that Sam had been told. Sam felt nauseous every time he imagined the secret coming out. He hated when Dad yelled at Dean.

It was late at night, and Sam was crying louder than usual. At Pastor Jim’s house, with Dean gone, he had a room to himself. He heard the creak of a floorboard outside his door and silenced himself abruptly. He’d thought Pastor Jim had fallen asleep hours ago.

There was a soft knock, and then Jim opened the door a crack.

“Sam?” he asked, in a gentle tone. “Are you okay?”

_No,_ Sam thought bleakly. _I probably never will be._

“’M fine,” he said aloud, voice trembling despite his best efforts.

“How about I bring you a glass of water?” Pastor Jim said. He didn’t wait for an answer. Sam tried to get himself under control while Jim went to the kitchen.

When Jim returned, Sam gulped the cool water down. It made him feel a little better. He hoped Pastor Jim would let him be, but Jim sat down on the bed and turned on the lamp by the bedside.

Sam blinked in the sudden light. Pastor Jim was looking at him with that careful, concerned expression grownups used when they didn’t want to make you more upset.

“What’s bothering you, son?” Jim asked. His gaze was kind and sympathetic. Although Sam had intended to lie, the truth poured out of him. He knew that Dean and their father and most of the people they knew hunted monsters. He was afraid all the time that Dean or Dad was going to die.

Pastor Jim looked troubled as Sam talked, but he just listened quietly.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he said, when Sam was done. “I know John didn’t want you to be burdened with that knowledge until you were older. I wish I could tell you everything will be okay – and I hope that it will be – but it’s true that what your dad does is dangerous. It’s also true that he’s smart, careful, and good at it. I’d bet on him in just about any fight.”

Sam nodded, taking a shaky breath. He appreciated that Pastor Jim wasn’t trying to pretend like there was nothing to be afraid of. The idea of being lied to more made him feel furious.

“But what about Dean?” Sam asked. “He’s just a kid. He pretends he’s not, but he is.”

A slightly angry expression crossed Pastor Jim’s face. It was there and gone, but Sam had seen it. Jim took a beat before replying.

“It’s hard, what your father asks of Dean,” Jim said finally. “It’s a lot. But John loves you boys more than anything. He’s made sure Dean is well-trained, and I’m sure Dean’s safety is his top priority.”

_Then why does he make him hunt monsters at all?_ Sam wondered, but he didn’t ask the question aloud. He knew Pastor Jim couldn’t answer it.

“I just want to be less afraid,” Sam said, sniffling. He tried to fight back the resurgence of tears that was threatening, rising like a painful wave in his chest.

Jim looked sadly at him for a moment. Then his face changed. “Sam, do you ever pray?” Sam shook his head. “Do you know what prayer is?”

“Kind of,” Sam said. He’d never been to church, but he’d gotten the idea from books and movies and TV. “It’s when you ask God for things. Or say thank you.”

Pastor Jim nodded. “Yes, that’s true,” he said. “But, at its best, that’s not what prayer is for.”

Sam frowned at him, puzzled. “What, then?”

“It’s for making your life better.”

“By getting what you want?”

“Not necessarily.” Pastor Jim smiled. “For me, a thank-you prayer helps me to focus on the good things in my life. It helps me remember to be grateful to God. And if I’m asking Him for something, then it’s a way of – ” He hesitated. “Reminding myself that there’s always hope.”

Sam pondered this for a moment. “What about when you ask for something and you don’t get it?” he said finally. “Does that mean God’s angry at you?”

“Well, Sam, you’ve hit on a major question in religion very quickly.” Jim smiled again. “But no, I don’t believe that it means God’s angry at you.”

“Then what?”

“I think that God has a plan,” Jim said. “And that we can’t always understand it. And sometimes, terrible things happen, and it’s hard to see how they could possibly be part of His plan. But it’s our choice how we respond to those things: if we let ourselves become stuck and only be angry or afraid, or if we move past those feelings and remember that there’s still good in the world.”

Sam nodded slowly, brow furrowed.

“I’m not going to pressure you into religion, Sam. But faith can help people get along in the world. At least, it does for me. So if you ever want to talk about it more, or try praying together, you just let me know, okay? Or if you want to talk about anything.” Jim stood up. He turned out the light and was almost at the door when Sam spoke again.

“Pastor Jim?”

“Yes?” Jim was an outline in the doorway. Sam bit his lip, but the semi-darkness made him feel a little braver.

“I want to try. Will you listen?”

“Of course,” Jim said.

“Do I have to get on my knees?”

“Only if you want to.”

Sam stayed where he was, but squeezed his eyes shut and clasped his hands together.

“God,” he said, tremulously. “Thank you for Dean, and my dad, and Uncle Bobby…and Pastor Jim. Please…” He swallowed another lump in his throat. “Please keep them all safe. I hope it’s in your plan for them to be safe.” It had to be, didn’t it?

“Thank you,” he added, feeling like he shouldn’t end with asking for things. He opened his eyes and looked at Pastor Jim. “How was that?”

“That was very good, Sam,” Pastor Jim said quietly. “Sleep well, my son.”

He closed the door, and Sam lay back down. He was surprised to find that he did feel a little better. He didn’t need to cry any more.

Maybe he would keep trying this prayer thing.

***

[](https://imgur.com/W9B4mfL)

Sam was eleven and scanning the occult section of the used bookstore per Dad’s orders. Occasionally a book of actual magic or information found its way onto the shelves. They always bought them in case they were useful – or dangerous. Anything Dad didn’t need, he would donate to Bobby’s extensive library.

Sam didn’t see any books that looked like their kind of thing. He was about to turn away when a volume caught his eye.

It was called _Angelspeake: How to Talk with Your Angels_ , and it looked like the type of New Age book that would make Dean sneer. But Sam liked the impressionistic cover, with a group of angels drawn in soft pastels. He flipped it over, and read the comforting words on the back. According to the book’s authors, they were from actual angels. The text made him feel sad and yearning and hopeful, for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp.

That many conflicting feelings at once was a little uncomfortable. Sam started to put the book back, then hesitated. He was drawn to it. He didn’t want to let it go.

Sam glanced at the price; just three dollars. He decided to buy it. If he kept it hidden from Dean, he’d be fine. And he could always abandon it at a motel if it turned out he didn’t like it.

Sam read the book eagerly whenever he could find a minute alone, managing to devour it in just a few days. He still felt a little skeptical, but the authors seemed so sure that anyone could talk to their angels. That you could ask the angels for guidance, help, or even material things. The book was full of examples from their lives and the lives of people they’d taught to communicate with the angels. Sam yearned for it to be true. The divine messages the authors had transcribed made him feel so peaceful and happy.

_As you go throughout your day, we are there,_ the angels in the book said. _We are not hiding, or difficult to feel or to know. We are always with you and we are **always** available. Now._

Sam thought maybe, just maybe, he could feel the angels’ presence; the ones the book said were assigned to help him.

After he finished the book, Sam had to wait a couple days until he had a guaranteed evening alone. Finally, Dad was on a hunt, Dean was on a date, and Sam had the motel room to himself.

He’d already half-memorized the chapter about how to write to your angels, but he opened the book to the right page anyway, and reviewed the steps.

_Pray._ Sam closed his eyes and clasped his hands.

“God,” he said, voice cracking. “Thank you for sending angels to look out for me and talk to me. Please help me to hear their message.”

Sam opened his eyes and bit his lip. Should the prayer be longer? He didn’t know what else to say. He hoped it was enough. He looked at the next step.

_Breathe._ Sam took a few slow, deep breaths. He felt calmer.

_Listen._ Sam picked up his pen and poised it over the new notebook he’d bought. He’d thought of using an old school notebook – his allowance was small and irregular and he was careful how he spent it – but he’d wanted something just for the angels.

Sam listened, with a relaxed attitude of openness, just like the book said. The next step was _write_ , which he would do as soon as he got a sense of what the angels were saying.

A few minutes ticked by. Nothing.

Maybe, Sam thought, he should start things off.

_Hello, angels,_ he wrote. _My name is Sam Winchester and I’d like to talk to you._

He kept his pen at the ready. A second later, he thought he felt something – but then the feeling abruptly cut off.

Sam kept listening for almost half an hour, but nothing came to him.

Sad and disappointed, he hid the book and notebook in his duffel bag. Over the next few weeks, he tried a few more times to write to the angels.

Nothing ever happened. Not even a brief feeling like he’d had the first time.

After the fourth unsuccessful attempt, Sam threw out the notebook and left the book behind in a motel room. It was New Age bullshit after all. Angels had better things to do than talk to him.

***

Sam was thirteen, and he decided to go to confession.

They’d been in Milwaukee, Wisconsin for about a month. He knew they probably wouldn’t be there much longer. Every day after school, as he walked back to their rented house, he passed St. Monica’s. It was a beautiful Catholic church made of light brick which was almost salmon-colored in the right light.

It drew him, somehow. It had grandeur, but its color made it less imposing than some other churches. And he wanted to talk to someone – someone impartial. Not a guidance counselor who might poke their nose into his family’s business. That was the kind of thing that led to Dad’s wrath and skipping town fast.

Finally, one day, Sam slipped into the quiet church. For a moment he stared around at the marble, stained glass windows, and high ceilings. Finally, he spotted a sign indicating that a confession session was going on right then. He felt relieved. He hadn’t even known there were designated times.

He saw someone leave one of the confessional booths. He went in and sat down, heart thumping anxiously. He wasn’t sure how to start.

“Hello, my son,” the priest said. He sounded nice, but Sam felt even more nervous.

“I’m not Catholic,” he burst out. “But I – I pray. Every day.”

“That’s all right,” the priest said kindly. “Many people are drawn to the Church, for a variety of reasons. What brings you here today?”

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I think I’ve been sinning,” he said. “In – in my heart. Isn’t that something people do?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Lately I’m just…so angry,” Sam said.

“At whom?”

“My dad, mostly. Sometimes my brother. But mostly my dad.”

“Why do you feel angry at him?”

“Because of the way he’s raising us,” Sam replied. “We have to move _all the time_ for his job. I’m always struggling to keep up in school. If I make any friends, I have to leave them so fast. And we have to help him with his work. Mostly Dean.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah.” Sam felt the familiar fury bubbling up in his chest again. “It’s not fair! We never got to be kids. Dean’s been taking care of me since I was a baby, practically.”

“And you’re angry about all this.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Sam demanded, then realized he was yelling at a priest. “Sorry, um, Father. I didn’t mean to…I just get so mad!” He sighed. “I think that’s why I feel…impure.”

The priest hesitated briefly. “My son, at your age, the changes in your body mean that – ”

“No, no.” Sam could feel his cheeks flaming. That was part of what had been going on with him, but far from the main thing. “It’s – it’s not that. I’ve always felt this way.” Unwelcome tears prickled in his eyes, and he fought to control his voice. “I don’t know why. But the anger makes it worse.”

The priest was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was full of understanding. “My son, I don’t know you well, but you sound to me like a boy with a good heart. Sometimes, the circumstances of life can be deeply frustrating. But there’s no reason to think God sees you as impure.”

Sam nodded, hoping that the priest was right.

“Will you give me penance to do?” he asked, in a low voice. There was a part of him that liked the idea. Say prayers or do a task, and be washed clean.

“You aren’t a Catholic, and so you cannot receive penance and absolution,” the priest said gently. Sam bowed his head, trying to hide his disappointment. “But I would recommend that you keep praying. Keep looking for messages from God in your life. They are there for everyone, if we have eyes to see them. And please know that the doors of the Church are always open to you.”

“Thank you, Father,” Sam whispered.

“Go in peace and love and serve the Lord,” the priest said. Sam knew he was being dismissed. He left the confessional on shaky legs.

Once outside the church, Sam found that he felt a little lighter, and a little more serene. It wasn’t quite what he had hoped for, but it had helped to unburden himself.

When he got back to the house, he found that Dean had cooked his favorite macaroni and cheese for dinner. He wondered if it was a sign that God was pleased he’d gone to confession. Sam thanked his brother. Then, silently, he thanked God and all His angels.

***

Sam was twenty-three and still prayed every day. Faith didn’t always come easily, and sometimes, it was hard to feel it. It was the hardest when he remembered his father’s last words, and thought about what he could become someday. But he tried. And it helped when he could trust and surrender. He felt sometimes that he was like that poster on _The X-Files_ : “I want to believe.” The thought made him smile.

And now, it seemed like there might be an angel around – a real one, intervening in people’s lives and doing good. The thought made Sam’s heart pound with longing. To get to meet such a creature, tangible evidence of the divine…Of course, Dean wasn’t convinced. The second Sam revealed that he prayed daily, he remembered why he’d kept it a secret all these years. Just having Dean know made him feel raw and exposed.

But then Sam had his vision. It was nothing like the visions of death that he got sometimes. The angel was a bright light, shining and beautiful and absolute. Sam was filled with awe. He felt a deeper sense of peace and surety than he’d ever known.

And then – of course – it turned out to be Father Gregory. Sam was crushed when the spirit appeared, but he ignored the blow. The job had to be done.

Later, when he was packing up, he thought dully that maybe it was about time he stopped praying. Dean would probably make fun of him for it now. And maybe there were only ghosts and demons after all. More than science but less than God.

Then Dean got back to the motel room, and told him what he’d seen. Dean – _Dean_ – suggested it could have been God’s will at work. A spark of hope kindled in Sam’s heart. Perhaps this was a sign. If even Dean could admit the possibility that there was a higher power, a grand design, then surely Sam’s faith wasn’t the most foolish thing in the world.

When Dean went into the bathroom, Sam dropped to his knees spontaneously, clasping his hands together and bowing his head.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

[ ](https://imgur.com/L8YOSIE)

***

Sam was twenty-five, and his brother had met an angel. Despite the danger this Castiel had spoken of, Sam couldn’t help but be excited. At last, there was proof that there was something out there; perhaps even a grand plan. And with angels on their side, he thought, they would have more than a fighting chance against Lucifer. He longed to speak with an angel himself. He even considered praying to Castiel, but decided it might seem too forward.

Seeing Castiel in their motel room was like a punch in the gut. Once Sam knew who Castiel was, he couldn’t help but stare. It wasn’t just his vessel, although he’d chosen a handsome one, with his dark hair and blue eyes. It was something in those eyes. The spirit they housed was ancient and fierce. Castiel had an aura about him that Sam couldn’t quite pin down, but which drew him in immediately.

He smiled as he put his hand out eagerly. Castiel stared at it like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Sam shook it a little, hoping to prompt him. More than anything, he wanted this being to touch him.

Finally, Castiel seemed to understand, and he put his hand in Sam’s.

“Sam Winchester,” he said. It seemed to Sam that his heart would burst. “The boy with the demon blood.”

Sam could feel the smile drop off his face. The words fell on him like ice water. He let go of Castiel’s hand.

“Glad to see you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities,” Castiel was saying. Sam couldn’t speak, choking on his disappointment. All he was to an angel was the boy with the demon blood.

It only got worse from there. The angels were planning to smite the whole town to kill one witch. Castiel seemed to think this was unfortunate, but necessary. Uriel appeared damn near eager to wipe out over a thousand people. Sam felt his illusions shattering almost as though they were physical things.

Uriel was even more of a dick when he spoke to Sam later, condescending and threatening. That night Sam considered skipping his prayers. But he thought about what Dean had said. God wasn’t His angels. Maybe God was still listening. Maybe He was worth talking to.

“Thank you for Dean,” he prayed silently. “Thank you for letting me meet Castiel.” As painful and disappointing as it had been, there was still a part of him which was glad to know an angel. That angel, at least. Sam couldn’t find it in him to be grateful about Uriel. “Please help me to keep my brother safe, and the world safe. Help me to do Your will.”

***

Sam was twenty-six, and it was becoming harder and harder to hold on to his faith. Finally, the day came when that thin thread snapped. It happened in the Garden.

“He knows what the angels are doing,” Joshua was saying, of God. “He knows that the Apocalypse has begun. He just doesn’t think it’s His problem.”

And that, Sam thought, was that. The faith which had been unraveling slowly since he first met angels, since he’d learned of his destiny as Lucifer’s vessel, since he’d discovered that God’s plan apparently included the end of the world…It was gone.

In the meantime, Sam had learned to depend on himself, and on Dean, and on Cas, who had become a friend. (And perhaps more than a friend, in Sam’s heart, but he always ignored those feelings when they came up. He knew they would never be reciprocated.) Sam had been praying, but it was beginning to feel rote. It didn’t give him the same feelings of security and hope anymore. It was more like a long shot; a habit he might as well keep up with, just in case.

Dean and Castiel were clearly depressed at the news of God’s abandonment. Sam, however, was angry. And he was ready. They would figure this out.

But outside of contacting Cas, he wouldn’t be praying anymore. There was no reason to expect God’s help.

***

Sam was twenty-seven, and he had no soul. Of course, he didn’t know it; not for a long time. He only knew that he didn’t need to sleep and that he felt different.

Actually, he didn’t feel much of anything at all.

Feeling nothing could be boring – it was amazing to remember how much time and mental space his emotional turmoil had taken up – but mostly it was a relief. Sam’s head was clear. He was efficient and effective. For the first time, he liked hunting without reservation.

It was surprising, then, how annoyed he felt when Castiel showed up the second Dean called him. A more profound bond, _indeed_.

Sam thought about it later, and remembered how before Hell, he’d basically been head over heels in love with Cas. He held in a snort of laughter at the thought, not wanting to wake Dean. He used to be rather staggeringly stupid. Falling in love with an angel, of all things.

The irritation he’d felt must have been a sort of echo of those feelings. And the very justified reaction of someone who’d been ignored for a year for no reason.

Whatever. Castiel had indicated that it wasn’t his “profound bond” with Dean which had called him there, anyway.

***

Sam was twenty-seven, and he had a soul again. Of course, he didn’t remember not having one; not right away.

It felt a little strange to pray, even utilitarian as the prayer was. Sam felt like he was long out of practice. But Castiel came right away. He looked like a miracle; he always looked like that, but still, Sam’s mouth dropped open in wonder and relief. The last time he’d seen Cas, Lucifer had been using Sam’s fingers to snap him into oblivion. Even though Sam already knew Castiel was okay, seeing him alive was a relief so potent that Sam felt almost giddy. The feelings he’d always tried to suppress came rushing back.

Cas tried to hug him, but Sam sat down fast, heart pounding in his chest. It was too much.

“Um…” he said. “Look, I would hug you, but – ” _I’m afraid I’d never let you go._

“That would be awkward,” Castiel finished for him. Sam didn’t quite know what to make of that, but he accepted the save. He needed to be careful and let his emotions ebb again.

***

Sam was thirty, and his love for Castiel was part of the background of his life. He had never had any illusions that it would be returned. He’d done his best not to nurture it, but it had grown quietly. Sometimes it was a dramatic thing, exploding over him, like when he hadn’t seen Cas for a long time. The memory of Castiel’s return from Purgatory could still make his throat feel tight. But most of the time it was just there. Sam tried not to let it get in the way of their friendship, which he treasured.

Cas had been healing what was left of Sam’s internal injuries from the trials, now that Gadreel was gone. Sam felt a thrill every time Castiel’s gentle fingers landed on his forehead and the angelic magic washed over him.

They’d been trying the spell that was supposed to locate Gadreel using the remnants of his grace that had been inside Sam. But the mixture had boiled away to nothing. Sam had a feeling the spell hadn’t been a success.

“Was that it?” he asked.

“I’m afraid there wasn’t enough grace,” Castiel said. “We’ll have to find Gadreel another way. I’m sorry, Sam.”

“It’s all right, Cas,” Sam replied. He felt a rush of gratitude for Castiel’s help that day, and for his willingness not to let Sam go too far. “You were right. About everything.”

Impulsively, he leaned over and hugged Castiel. Cas’ arms stayed at his sides.

“Now’s the part where you hug back,” Sam said. He knew he should probably just let it go, and let Cas go. But at that moment, he wanted it too badly.

“Oh,” Castiel said. “Right. Uh, sorry.” He hugged Sam. Sam chuckled.

“There you go,” he said. He was unable to resist patting Castiel’s face as he pulled back. His heart ached with love and affection.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said. “I didn’t think I was supposed to hug you.”

Sam frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Three years ago, when you got your soul back, you didn’t want to.”

“Oh…” Sam remembered how raw with emotion he’d been that day. He could feel the color rising in his cheeks. “Sorry about that. That was just…It was a weird day.”

“I thought it was because of our mutual physical attraction,” Castiel said.

Sam’s jaw actually dropped. “Our – our what?” he stuttered. Cas cocked his head to the side.

“Your heartrate and respiration are elevated when I come near,” he informed Sam. “Also, there are certain hormones I can scent, which – ”

“I knew _I_ was attracted to you, Cas,” Sam said. He felt slightly dizzy. “But how was I supposed to know you felt the same way?”

Castiel frowned. “I tried to embrace you,” he said, in a tone which implied that this should have made things very clear. “When you got your soul back. When you rebuffed me, I assumed you felt there were too many potential complications.” He smiled very slightly. “As I said earlier, we both consistently screw things up. I thought you feared that was too likely.”

“You expected me to get all that from a hug attempt?” Sam said.

“With how many people have you seen me initiate an embrace?” Castiel demanded, sounding irritated.

“Well…” Sam considered this. “I see your point. But still, you’ve gotta know – “

“Yes,” Castiel interrupted. “When I was human, I came to understand your limited perspective much more deeply. I can see now that my meaning was unclear.”

Sam blew out a breath. “So, where does this leave us?”

Castiel glanced around, frowning slightly. “We’re…still in the bunker. Why, what are you seeing?”

“No.” Sam tried not to smile. “I meant…are you still, um…attracted to me?”

“Yes.”

Sam’s heartbeat and respiration were certainly elevated now. “Can I kiss you?”

Cas looked confused. “I imagine you can – oh, you meant ‘can’ as in ‘may.’ Yes. You may.”

He stayed perfectly still as Sam leaned in and pressed their lips together softly. After a few frozen seconds, Sam realized the problem.

“Now’s the part where you kiss back,” he said softly.

“Oh,” Cas said. “Good.” In a startling move, he grabbed the back of Sam’s head and crashed his lips against Sam’s. Sam kissed back eagerly, crowding closer to Cas and wrapping an arm around his waist. Sam’s heart soared. He felt like he was touching something sacred. He couldn’t believe he was getting to do what he had thought for so long was impossible.

[ ](https://imgur.com/Szsb3Si)

“Do you want to go to my room?” he asked, when they had paused.

“I think that would make things easier, yes.”

Sam grabbed Castiel’s hand, unwilling to stop touching him for even a moment. The walk to Sam’s room wasn’t long, but it seemed to take forever. When they finally got there, Sam pushed off Castiel’s trenchcoat and jacket eagerly, then paused.

“What is it?” Cas asked. His hands were on Sam’s chest.

“I just remembered you haven’t…done this. Not much. Right?”

Cas looked affronted. “I had sex with the Reaper when I was human.”

“But have you ever with…a man?”

“What difference does that make?”

Sam smiled. “Not a lot, really. Just – I don’t want to go too fast, or overwhelm you.” He frowned. “Especially now that you’re an angel again. What you were saying before, about the peanut butter and jelly – ”

“You are not a sandwich, Sam.”

“No, no, I get that. I do. Just, if eating was overwhelming, then sex – ”

Cas pulled Sam’s head down again and met his lips in a long, slow kiss. Sam sucked in a breath when Cas’ tongue slipped into his mouth. He was getting hard and god, he hoped Cas would still want to do this.

Cas pulled back finally, but kept Sam close, leaning his forehead against Sam’s. “Sam. Please understand. Yes, I can taste the molecules on your skin and in your saliva.” He tipped his head back, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I want to taste more.”

Sam could feel his heart thudding in his chest. “Cas…” he whispered, at a loss for how to respond.

Castiel took a step back and began unbuttoning his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes never left Sam’s. Sam watched, frozen and dumbstruck, as Cas pulled off his shirt and tossed it on a chair.

Sam gazed at the angel’s naked torso as Castiel moved towards him again.

“I believe it’s customary for _both_ parties to remove clothing, when engaging in sexual intercourse?” he said, smiling slightly.

“Um. Yeah,” Sam breathed, willing his trembling hands to do something useful. But Castiel was already unbuttoning his shirt, and Sam let him, only moving when it was time to shrug the flannel off his shoulders.

“You Winchesters wear so many layers,” Cas said, as he looked at Sam’s T-shirt. “Are you often cold?”

“Uh,” Sam said, but whatever he was going to say was lost when Castiel slipped his hands under Sam’s shirt and slid them up slowly, until the shirt was bunched up around his chest and Sam remembered himself enough to pull it over his head. Cas took a step back again and eyed Sam’s half-naked form with an unreadable expression.

“This process is rather time-consuming,” Castiel said. “Shall we skip to the end?”

“Okay,” Sam said, not entirely sure what that meant. Cas snapped his fingers and suddenly they were both naked.

For a second, Sam had to fight the urge to cover himself, but he quickly forgot about that as he stared at Cas. He stepped forward and put his hands on Castiel’s hips, thumbs working in slow circles, barely daring to breathe. Despite what he knew now about God and Heaven and what most angels were like, his old awe of them came flooding back. It seemed unreal, that he was allowed to touch an angel this way. And not just any angel, but _Cas_.

Yet, somehow, he was. When Sam let his hands move to grab Castiel’s ass, Cas gave a small hum of pleasure and reached up to tangle his hand in Sam’s hair, kissing him deeply. Sam moaned against Cas’ mouth, reveling in the feeling of Cas’ body warm against his. Sam was already hard enough to be leaving a drop of slick against Castiel’s skin.

But…Sam pulled back. “Cas? Are you sure you want to do this?”

Cas frowned. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that you’re not, um…” Sam cleared his throat. “Aroused.”

Castiel looked down at his still-soft cock. “Ah,” he said. He pondered for a moment. “Well, I do want to. And I didn’t have any trouble attaining an erection when I was with April.”

Sam felt a wave of anxiety. What if they couldn’t do this – what if it was because Jimmy Novak had been straight, and the body Cas was in just wasn’t wired right – 

“I suspect I simply need to find my way to physical arousal now that I’m an angel again,” Cas was saying. “It’s probably trickier than when I was human.” Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

“What would you do to a human lover?”

Sam smiled. “I’d tell them to lie down.”

Cas nodded and crawled onto Sam’s bed. He lay on his back and looked up at Sam with such trust that Sam felt like his heart was going to burst.

He joined Castiel on the bed and kissed him for long minutes, running his hands gently over Castiel’s skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Sam murmured to him, and then he kissed Cas’ neck, shoulders, chest; trailing his fingers down Cas’ arms, mouthing across Cas’ stomach, hips, thighs. It felt like an act of devotion; even more so when he tongued Castiel’s soft cock and took it into his mouth, suckling it and moaning.

“ _Ah_ ,” Castiel breathed, tangling his fingers in Sam’s hair. “That feels…very, very good.”

But five minutes later, he still wasn’t hard.

“Sam,” Cas said, and Sam pulled off reluctantly. He still wanted that taste in his mouth, but obviously, something more was required. He propped himself up on his elbows.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

“I have another idea,” Castiel said. “I think the problem is that I have forgotten the trick to erections. Or, rather, I never needed it before. And when I was human, it wasn’t necessary. They seemed to occur on their own. Sometimes with no clear provocation.” He frowned. “It was very inconvenient.”

Sam smiled.

“So,” Cas continued. “I wondered if you might let me see into your mind, for a moment. To experience your arousal. I think that will give me the information I need.” Sam flinched – he couldn’t help it. Castiel looked concerned. “Of course, if my presence would be unwelcome – “

Sam shook his head. “It’s not that – not really. In theory, it sounds good. Maybe we could work up to it, if we keep…Anyway. It’s just that, right now – after Gadreel – I don’t think I can let you in.” He suppressed a shudder, the horror of finding out about that months-long secret guest in his body and mind still fresh. “I’m sorry. I want to. It’s not you, it’s the idea of _anyone_ in my head.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Castiel said. “I understand how it would be too much right now.”

Sam sighed, laying his head on Cas’ thigh. “But if I can’t let you in, then how are we going to…” He fell silent, feeling heavy with disappointment. To be this close to what he’d longed for all these years, and to have it slip out of his grasp, at least for the time being…

“Pray to me,” Castiel said suddenly. Sam lifted his head, heart pounding again with hope, and with excitement at the words.

“Okay,” he said, then frowned. “Wait, how will that help?”

“If you pray to me, you can control what I see,” Castiel said. “It’s easy to get a sense of a human’s feelings when they’re praying, but it isn’t the same as entering a mind. I’ll only know what you are focusing on.”

Sam nodded quickly. “Yes,” he said. “Yes. I…” He shut his eyes and took a breath, then lowered his head. “Castiel,” he said. His lips brushed Castiel’s hipbone as he spoke. “Castiel, please hear me. I want you to feel what I feel.” His cock throbbed, and he nuzzled Cas’ stomach. “Please, Castiel, feel my desire. Please know how much I want you. Please, Castiel. Cas…” Cas’ stomach jumped under his lips. Sam felt ecstatic; peaceful, yet excited. It was like the way he used to feel when he prayed when he was young, only magnified exponentially.

“Sam…” Cas breathed, and Sam opened his eyes to look into Cas’, which were bright and intense. Castiel’s eyes flicked downwards, and Sam followed his gaze to see Cas’ cock, erect and flushed dark with blood.

Sam grinned triumphantly and wrapped his hand around it. He eagerly watched Cas’ face as he stroked him. Castiel’s eyes fluttered closed and he bit his lip, hips rising. Sam’s dick twitched.

“Is it as good as when you were human?” he asked in a low voice.

“Better.”

“Because you feel it differently?”

Cas opened his eyes. “No,” he said. “Because it’s you.”

The words combined with the laser focus of those blue eyes made Sam’s cheeks redden. To cover his consternation, he ducked his head down and swirled his tongue around the head of Cas’ cock. Castiel moaned, his head falling back. Sam took Cas’ cock as far down his throat as he could manage, eagerly listening for every sound of pleasure, feeling each shift of Castiel’s muscles under his roaming hands.

Sam kept his movements slow and gentle, wanting to draw this out. Eventually it occurred to him that he didn’t know exactly what Cas wanted, or where he wanted this to end. He pulled off again, suppressing a sigh and ignoring the part of him that urged him to keep tonguing the angel’s cock until Castiel was coming down his throat.

“Cas.” His voice was hoarse with need. “What do you want to do?”

“This, of course.” Castiel sounded puzzled, and Sam grinned. You really had to be specific with Cas.

“Yeah, I meant – do you want to come this way, or – I’m totally game, if you do, but I didn’t want to assume…”

“Oh.” Castiel shook his head. “No. If possible, I would like to orgasm with you inside me.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Sam could feel his eyes widening in surprise and – unexpectedly – alarm.

“No, no, Cas, I couldn’t,” he said, still not entirely sure why the idea seemed so impossible. It wasn’t like it was unappealing. “You – you fuck me, how about that?”

“That sounds pleasant,” Castiel replied. “But I have already penetrated another. I was hoping for a new experience.”

“I – but – ” Sam shook his head, and suddenly, he realized what was freaking him out. “You’re an angel!”

Castiel cocked his head to the side. “I assure you, that will not impede the process,” he said gravely.

Sam kept shaking his head. “You’re an angel, Cas. You’re, like, this – this perfect, untouchable, shining being.” He was embarrassed to realize there were tears gathering in his eyes. “I’m – I was Lucifer’s vessel.”

Castiel sat up. “Sam – “

“And even before that,” Sam said, sitting up too and letting his hair fall into his face. He wanted to hide. “Even before Lucifer, I was nothing but the boy with the demon blood.” He couldn’t look at Cas. “That’s what you called me. Do you remember? The first time we met.” He took a shuddering breath, trying to choke back the tears, but a few slipped out of his eyes anyway. “That’s all I was to you.”

Cas moved closer, his hand landing on Sam’s face. He brushed away one of Sam’s tears with his thumb. “I do remember,” he said quietly. “And I am sorry that I hurt you with those words. It was before I knew you.” He hesitated. “But even then…Sam, you misunderstood me.”

Sam looked up quickly. Castiel’s eyes were full of concern and affection. He gave Sam a little smile.

“It was probably my fault. Today has truly brought home my apparent inability to communicate effectively. But you must realize...I was told you were a monster, corrupted and probably beyond saving. I was prepared for a base, wicked creature, already half-demon. Then I met you, and I saw…a man. A man with wonderment in his eyes at the sight of an angel. And, frankly, a man with far more respect for us than your brother had ever shown.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh at that, but Castiel still looked serious. “That was why I took your hand. ‘The boy with the demon blood’ became what you were, not who you were. I wanted to give you a chance.” He smoothed Sam’s hair back from his face. “It was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“Cas,” Sam said, too overcome with emotion to know what to say. He leaned in and kissed Castiel with an edge of desperation. A few more tears slid down his cheeks, but now, they were tears of relief.

“You see, I am not so untouchable,” Castiel said when they had broken apart. He gave Sam a sardonic look. “And, as we were discussing earlier, I’m far from perfect.” Sam chuckled, feeling his shoulders relax a little. “If you do not want to penetrate me, or not yet, then I understand. But you asked me what I want. That is it.”

Sam found that he was nodding emphatically. “Yeah,” he said. “I want to give you whatever you want.” Cas frowned and inhaled like he was going to protest, so Sam hastened to clarify. “I mean, I want it, too. Don’t get me wrong, that sounds…amazing. I just also really want to give you what you want.” He took a deep breath. “But would you…would you ride me, though?”

Castiel nodded wordlessly.

“Okay,” Sam said, willing his racing pulse to slow. “You should lie down on your stomach.”

“How will I ride you in that position?”

Sam grinned. “You need prep.”

“I have angelic healing, Sam.”

Sam shook his head, unable to stop smiling as he guided Castiel down, quietly amazed at how the angel was following the prompting of his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you, Cas, even temporarily.” He gave Castiel a pillow to put under his hips. “Besides, it’s fun.”

More than fun, Sam thought, as he spread Castiel’s cheeks and tongued around his hole, which was as perfectly clean as an angelic being could make it. This was another act of worship. Cas was making little _oh_ sounds of pleasure, his hips working as Sam licked the delicate skin, then gently started pushing inside. Castiel gasped and Sam could feel his muscles clenching, drawing Sam’s tongue deeper.

Sam never wanted to stop, but finally he pulled away and grabbed lube from his bedside table. He slicked his fingers and started working Cas open, taking his time. Cas was breathing harder and _pushing back_ , like he couldn’t get enough. Sam could hardly believe this was happening, that this beautiful creature wanted him, was responding to his ministrations with moans, that he was softly saying Sam’s name.

“Enough,” Castiel said finally, voice ragged. “I’m ready for you.” Sam shivered and lay down as Cas sat up. Cas squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his palm and then wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock, with a look of great concentration. Sam gasped at the touch, arching into it. Cas had warmed the lube somehow, and it was pure pleasure, almost too much. All Sam could think was that it was _Castiel_ touching him like this.

Cas straddled Sam’s hips, and started lowering himself onto Sam’s cock with a soft grunt. Sam bit his lip, forcing himself to keep still, watching Castiel’s face. Cas’ eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth half-open. When Sam’s cock was all the way inside him, Cas opened his eyes and gave Sam a small smile. Sam made himself breathe slowly. He was inside an _angel_. The tight heat felt like heaven.

And when Cas started to move, it felt like salvation. Sam slid his hands up Cas’ thighs and gripped his hips, but he didn’t try to control him, just held on.

“You okay?” Sam managed to gasp out.

Castiel nodded. “I am a great deal better than okay.”

Cas’ hand was on Sam’s face again. Cas kissed him, and Sam felt like he was drowning in light. It was overwhelming, and it was perfect. Everything seemed to come in flashes: Castiel’s hands and lips on his chest; Castiel’s eyes on his face; Castiel’s skin and hair under his hands. The indescribable pleasure as Cas rode him.

Sam wanted – _needed_ – Cas to know how this was for him. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Castiel,” he said. “Hear my prayer.”

“Sam – ” Cas sounded surprised.

“Please,” Sam barreled on through shortening breaths as Cas started to move faster. “Please, Cas, I want you to know how I feel. How good, how… _worthy_. How grateful. Thank you, Castiel, I…” Castiel was going even faster now, and Sam panted as he felt his orgasm approaching, past the tipping point; no stopping it now. “Cas – _god_ – thank you, thank you, thank you – “ His head was spinning as he came. It felt like grace.

With a jolt, he realized he’d forgotten to see what Cas needed; but he heard Cas utter a short cry and felt warm, wet liquid falling on his stomach and chest. He opened his eyes to see that Cas had come untouched. The knowledge made Sam’s cock twitch, Castiel’s muscles squeezing around it and milking out another few drops. Sam groaned and reached up to pull Cas down for a long kiss, half-forgetting that Castiel was a holy being, just wanting him close.

Cas kissed Sam back eagerly, fingers buried in his hair. He pressed his forehead to Sam’s when they came apart.

“Was…was it okay?” Sam asked, heart pounding with anxiety.

“It was transcendent,” Cas replied. The words made Sam’s stomach flip, and the matter-of-fact tone made him smile.

They lay there for a few minutes, breathing each other’s air, and then Cas sat up, rolling off Sam and laying down. He pulled Sam to him with a businesslike air, and Sam came willingly, putting his head on Castiel’s chest. Cas stroked his hair.

“It’s been a long time since I prayed like that,” Sam said softly. “In a way that actually felt like prayer.”

“It’s difficult to have faith in God these days,” Cas replied. “At least, it is for me.”

“Me too. For a long time now.”

“But I have learned to have faith in other things. There is sacredness to be found in the mundane. Like this.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call what we just did mundane,” Sam said, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s skin.

“Of course it was.” Cas sounded almost severe. “There is nothing more ordinary than two people finding pleasure and comfort and love in one another.” He paused. “I think, perhaps, that there is also nothing more beautiful. Nothing more sanctified.”

Sam smiled and pulled the angel closer. “Yeah,” he said. He realized that despite what he’d just been through with Dean and Gadreel, despite everything that was going on, he felt safe and at peace. He hadn’t forgotten any of it. But in this moment, he was utterly still in his heart and mind.

“Thank you, Castiel,” he prayed, heart full of gratitude. He felt the soft pressure of Cas’ lips on his head.

“Thank you, Sam Winchester.”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Angelspeake_ , by Barbara Mark and Trudy Griswold, is a real book. The quote used in the story is taken from the text.


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